


Analyzing the Game

by Raspberry_Blond



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Early in Canon, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Blond/pseuds/Raspberry_Blond
Summary: Julian's attempt to introduce Garak to the glories of his fictional hero has some unexpected results.





	Analyzing the Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be the start of a series where I planned to have span the time between "Past Prologue" and Garak's next appearance in the series, which would have been the S2 episode "Cardassians." Bashir and Garak seemed so comfortable with each other, especially compared to their interactions in Past Prologue, that I wanted to write a possible explanation as to how they became so friendly and started their lunch tradition. In this series, Garak was going to comment on each Bond film and the stories would take place amid a certain S1 episode. This one leads up to the episode "Babel."
> 
> I never got this off the ground beyond this story, but I may revisit the idea of making this a series one of these days!
> 
> Also, I wrote this before Skyfall and Spectre were released, so the revision is a little different from what I posted on LJ back in the day. :D

"Bond. James Bond."  
  
Julian Bashir looked over his mug of tarkalean tea at the Cardassian tailor Garak, who sat opposite him sipping a steaming cup of a red-leaf brew.

Garak met Bashir's expectant stare with a blank one of his own.  
  
"I'm sorry, Doctor. Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"  
  
The young Starfleet doctor sighed. He supposed it was a little too much to hope for, but it would have been amazing if a real-life spy had actually followed the exploits of one of the most beloved fictional spies in Earth history.

That is, if Garak really _was_ a spy. It was a designation he steadfastly refused to acknowledge.  
  
"I suppose not. James Bond is a human fictional character, an operative in the main intelligence organization that existed in Great Britain in the middle 20th century."  
  
"A spy, in other words." Garak's mouth curved into one of those grins that Julian found endlessly distracting. "Doctor, it seems that no matter where our conversations start, they all lead to _that_ destination."  
  
"Really?" Julian tried for an innocent expression and Garak's broadening grin told him that he was failing rather miserably. "I hadn't noticed."  
  
Bright blue eyes glimmered at him. "Hmmm," was all Garak said, taking more of his tea. Julian somewhat awkwardly followed suit, letting the silence spin out between them.  
  
Bashir was still trying to figure this man out and making only a bit of leeway. He'd been intrigued, and frankly, aroused by their first encounter, but he'd put any thoughts of pursuit out of his head.  
  
He'd been known in his Academy days for having some exotic tastes, but a Cardassian former spy was a little outside that classification. The stories going around the station seemed to confirm that he'd do best to give the man a wide berth.  
  
But then that business with Tahna Los and the Duras sisters had occurred. Julian would never forget being cloistered in the fitting room of Garak's shop, listening to the Klingon sisters' plans, playing the part of the spy himself. All engineered by Garak.  
  
In the debrief and for days after the Kohn-ma leader had been apprehended, Julian had analyzed Garak's actions. He couldn't come to any concrete conclusions, but one thing was clear to him: Garak could have just kept his mouth shut about the whole thing. The Cardassians likely would have intercepted Tahna before he'd have been able to put his insane bomb plan into motion with no one on the station the wiser. And if Major Kira Nerys had gone with him, she would have been lost, too.  
  
It was in those days of analysis that Julian found himself unconsciously searching the Promenade for grey skin and slicked back hair. He'd _somehow_ discovered that every day, at around 14:30, Garak left his shop and spent some time in the Replimat, usually reading a data padd over a cup of some Cardassian beverage.  
  
Julian had managed to approach him, that time without making too much of a mess of things, and from that had sprung an unspoken tradition, three weeks old now; that of the afternoon tea/fermented fish juice break. Though, much to Julian's relief, Garak had become partial to the less pungent red-leaf tea.  
  
Julian found that somewhere along the way he'd stopped being vaguely terrified of the man, and thus had begun to hold his own during their conversations. That didn't stop him from being caught completely flatfooted by the mysterious tailor.  
  
Though if Bashir were being honest, he rather liked that.  
  
Garak put his cup down and leaned close with a benign smile.  
  
"What is it, exactly, about this 'James Bond' that you find so appealing?"  
  
Julian's mouth twisted into a thoughtful pout. "Well, I suppose it was just his infallibility, for one. Also his profession -- one that, on Earth at least -- was shrouded in secrecy and innuendo."  
  
"It wouldn't be a very effective espionage organization if it weren't, Doctor."  
  
"Point taken," conceded Bashir with a rueful smile. "Well, for a young boy -- and I was very young when I first discovered the world of James Bond -- the idea of traveling the world as a secret agent was simply an irresistible lure. And Bond was among the best. He was always impressively turned out -- something _you'd_ appreciate, Garak."  
  
"Judging by what I've seen of that era's clothing styles, I wouldn't be so sure."  
  
The doctor couldn't help a chuckle at that. " _And_ he was witty. He had a way with words, no matter what the circumstance. Whether it was a gun to his head or a laser between his legs, he always had a quip at the ready."  
  
Garak blinked slowly. "A -- laser between his --? I'd ask you to elaborate, but," he looked quickly around "there _are_ children present."  
  
"Well yes, I mean ... err ..." Julian felt himself blushing again. How was it that this damned could reduce him to a wibbling fool with just a sentence? Sometimes just a word!  
  
"Bond often landed himself in such scrapes. But he always escaped them largely unharmed and usually with a beautiful woman in his arms."  
  
"All in a day's work." Garak's voice was dry.  
  
Bashir grinned. Garak could give Bond a run for his money with the quips, he reckoned. As for the beautiful women, well, Julian had a hard time picturing Garak with a sensual woman wrapped around him, though he couldn't say it was because he didn't believe it could happen or he didn't relish the idea of having to imagine it in he first place.  
  
"So then am I to assume that there are no works of fiction on Cardassia that embellish the exploits of your world's intelligence agencies?"  
  
" _Agency_ , Doctor," said Garak. "There is only one. Well, only one that counts, at any rate. And the answer, incidentally, is no. There really is no need to embroider the reputation of Cardassia's intelligence network. This is one instance in which truth _is_ stranger than fiction."  
  
Julian picked up his mug. "You sound as if you'd know that from experience."  
  
Garak laughed lightly, the sound sending a few delightful ripples through Julian's body.

"Doctor, your persistence and single-mindedness are diverting. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but what I _know_ I've picked up second- and third-hand over the years. You'll be amazed what you pick up when you hem women's dresses for a living."  
  
Smiling and shaking his head, Julian drained the rest of what was in his mug. He had to be getting back to the Infirmary, though he wished he didn't have to cut his time with Garak so short. Conversation with this man was never dull in the slightest, and he welcomed the opportunity to relax from the rigors of duty and get lost in those remarkable eyes.  
  
"You know, Garak, I think you'd like Bond if you read the holonovels or at least saw the holovideo reproductions of the movies," Bashir said. "Some are better than others but the very good ones are classics for a reason."  
  
Garak regarded him speculatively. "While some of what you told me _is_ intriguing --"  
  
"The lasers?"  
  
"The lasers," he agreed with an amused smirk. "I'm curious -- you have these items in your possession? Surely they're quite valuable by Terran standards and, perhaps, quite rare?"  
  
"Not really very valuable, though the set in my collection was originally my father's, so they hold some sentimental value to me, of course. As for rare, I'm not sure about that. These days, you can get just about anything put on an isolinear rod."  
  
"So I've been told." Garak looked thoughtful. "How many installments of this adventure are there?"  
  
"My father collected only the first 26. He said the others weren't worth the data storage."  
  
"Ah, so few? For so great a hero as this Bond appears to have been, I thought there might be hundreds. In that case, Doctor, I'd be delighted to view them. I promise that I will handle them with great care."  
  
Julian's glanced at the elegant grey fingers and considered just how well cared-for his property would be, and he felt suddenly envious and a bit of something more. Flushing, he contemplated the very dregs of his cup before raising his gaze to those direct blue eyes.  
  
"Tell you what, Garak. It's been years since I've watched the whole run. Why don't we watch them together? O-one at a time. As -- as time permits. I mean, you do have a business to conduct, and I have my duty, and -- and --"  
  
And Julian knew he'd crossed over into babbling yet again, but he couldn't really help it. As he'd been speaking, Garak had been stroking his fingers absently up and down the length of his mug a relentlessly steady motion, pausing at the top only to let his fingers trail down the side of the mug almost to the tabletop.  
  
"I'd like that very much," said Garak, suddenly stopping what he was doing. "I'm sure I'll be pleased to have you explain all of the idiosyncrasies of human culture."  
  
Julian swallowed hard and gamely attempted a smile.

"And you'll perhaps be able to compare and contrast human espionage practices with Cardassian ones -- based on the _anecdotal_ evidence you've acquired."  
  
Garak laughed and stood up. "I'll see what I can do. Well, I should be getting back to my shop. Comm me when you're free to begin the viewing --"  
  
" -- How about tonight? Around 23:00 in my quarters?"  
  
Julian colored when he saw Garak's eyeridges quirk in silent question. Right, because that didn't sound _strange at_ _all_ to invite him to his personal quarters late at night to watch a holovideo. Bashir wondered if he should just go for complete humiliation and mention that champagne he still had from Korris I. Maybe Garak would appreciate it more than Jadzia had seemed to.  
  
Garak inclined his head slightly. "Twenty-three hundred it is. I look forward to it, Doctor."  
  
Julian's eyes followed Garak out of the Replimat, and he wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers. Breathing a silent sigh, he wasn't sure whether to be elated or terrified at what he'd done. Just as he was deciding that it was probably prudent to be both, he noticed Chief O'Brien rushing along the Promenade with his toolkit in hand, muttering to himself. Julian felt a pang of sympathy for the engineer. All that week, there'd been more mechanical problems than usual and Miles had been rushing around like a crazed vole trying to patch things up.

Bashir shook his head. Well, annoying as it all was, at least O'Brien had something with which to occupy his time. Julian foresaw the rest of the day dragging on with nothing for him to do but wait for 23:00 and picture a certain Cardassian kitted out in a tux.


End file.
